


Legends (You're Human Tonight)

by ShowMeAHero



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015)
Genre: Cats, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for SPECTRE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond comes to Q's flat to give him a mission update, which is very unnecessary, but very, very welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legends (You're Human Tonight)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of working on NaNoWriMo, because I'm fucking garbage, so, there's that.
> 
> This includes some of my own headcanons post-SPECTRE, which I explained briefly in-story but will explain more in-depth in the end notes, so feel free to read those for more info.
> 
> Also, they weren't supposed to do anything more than kiss, but it got away from me.
> 
> Also also, shout-out to my 00Q trash group chat in the form of the cats' names.
> 
> Title taken from the song "Young God" by Halsey.

The clock chimed once as Q passed it by on his way to his living room. He settled on the sofa, placing his mug of tea on the low coffee table in front of him. He shrugged off his sling and rolled his shoulders up, groaning when the muscle pulled. When a knock came at his front door, he sighed heavily and heaved himself off the couch, padding across his flat to the front door, sock feet sliding on the dark hardwood floors. He peered through the peephole in the door and sighed again before pressing his palm to the scanner to his right. The locks in the door undid themselves, and Q opened the door to James Bond.

“Can I do something for you, 007?” Q asked, leaving Bond standing in the doorway, watching him shuffle away.

“I thought I would come give you a mission update,” Bond answered, shutting the front door behind him. Bond had been with Madeleine since the entire ordeal with the new Blofeld. Ever since Bond and Q came to the realization that Madeleine had been involved with Spectre the entire time, being the daughter of Mr. White, of all people, Bond had been undercover with her, trying to get her to confess or otherwise incriminate herself. The rest of MI6 thought Bond up and left his double-o position, but the rest of MI6 apparently did not know Bond. Bond would never leave MI6, never stop being a double-o, unless he died, and even that had never stopped him. Only Q, M, and Moneypenny knew, and they were supporting his mission at a distance.

“Is that all?” Q asked, dropping back down onto the sofa. He rolled his shoulders up again, and Bond came to a stop behind him.

“How’s the shoulder?” Bond asked, and Q rotated his shoulder up near his ear. The bullet that blew through the back seat of his car during the night of the Blofeld incident had ripped through Q’s arm and shoulder, grazing the muscle and luckily missing any arteries. He had been through a bit of surgery and physical therapy, and probably might not get full motion back, but he could type, and that was all that mattered, to him.

“Healing,” Q answered. “It’s been eight weeks. It’s much better than it was. Which is fantastic, honestly, because I’ve been getting quite sick of typing one-handed.”

“You still type quickly with one hand,” Bond commented. He moved around the sofa to the coffee table and plucked the mug of tea off the wood. He took a seat on the table, his knees bumping against Q’s as he sipped at the tea. Q slapped at his wrist until Bond surrendered the mug to him.

“I still type more quickly with one hand than you could with eight,” Q taunted absently, swallowing a mouthful of steaming tea. “What do you really need?”

“Just checking in,” Bond murmured. “Madeleine hasn’t caught on to me yet. I figure, it’s only a matter of time before she slips up. She leaves for days at a time, now and then. Eventually, I’ll catch something.” Q hummed his acknowledgement as Bond fished a little clear jar with a black label out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” Q asked, and Bond held it out to him, trading him the mug for the jar. Q raised an eyebrow at the label before glancing up at Bond. “Manuka honey?”

“It helps with scar tissue,” Bond explained. He placed the mug back on the table and picked up one of the two domestic mutt cats that Q kept. Fibonacci purred and rubbed his face against Bond’s neck. Bill, the other cat, leapt up onto the coffee table and started drinking out of the mug of tea. Bond scratched her neck, and she practically vibrated under his hand.

“Eventually, they’ll see you for what you really are,” Q commented, watching Fibonacci inch his way up to lay across Bond’s neck and shoulders, a furry brown smudge stretched out in the dark. The moon barely lit the room as Q squinted at the small white words written on the back of the jar’s label.

“Accept that they love me more than they love you, Q.” Bond lifted Bill into his lap and ruffled the scruff of her neck. He nodded to the jar. “I’ve used that myself.”

“And we’ve seen how flawless your skin is.”

“Shut it,” Bond said, half-smiling. Bill leapt off of his lap to the ground and sprinted off into the darkness. “Do you want some help with that?”

Q raised an eyebrow at him. “Do _you_ want to help with this?”

“You know I do,” Bond answered. “I know you’re stressed with me undercover-”

“Undercover, living a domestic life with a woman who says she loves you,” Q interrupted. “Don’t leave out that part, since it is _very_ important and _rather_ horrible.”

“It has to be done.” Bond stood, displacing Fibonacci, who sprung to the ground with an affronted look up at the agent before chasing off after Bill. “You know it does.”

“I know it does,” Q said. Bond lifted the honey jar out of his hands and tore the label. He broke the seal and twisted off the lid. Q unbuttoned his pajama top and slid it off his shoulders, letting it pool around his waist. “You’re a good agent. You’re doing an excellent job with this mission, by the way. I have a new prototype for you. An update on the old cyanide and mini-rocket cigarettes Boothroyd used to make.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” Bond growled playfully near Q’s ear, and Q laughed and slapped him away. Bond started to rub a small amount of honey into the scar tissue on Q’s right arm. Q dropped his head forward, letting it hang down, chin against his chest. His hair fell into his face, and Bond pushed it back with his clean hand. “You’re a good Quartermaster, if it makes a difference.”

“I know I am,” Q mumbled near his chest before laughing at himself. Bond pinched his skin.

“Don’t laugh at your own jokes. It’s unbecoming, and you’re not very funny to begin with,” Bond said, and Q raised his head to frown at him.

“Moneypenny thinks I’m funny,” Q said, and Bond spread honey across Q’s back to the scar tissue over his shoulder and under his arm.

“No, Moneypenny thinks you’re charming,” Bond corrected. “The two of you are like brother and sister. It’s unsettling, sometimes.”

“Someone has to keep me company while you’re away,” Q murmured, and Bond leaned in close to his ear, his fingers digging harder into Q’s skin and muscle.

“Are the cats not enough?” Bond asked, voice low, and Q turned his head up and towards him. Their mouths settled a breath apart. Q smiled.

“No, the cats are not enough,” Q said softly, and Bond brushed their noses together as he tipped his head. His palm rested hot against Q’s shoulder, fingertips digging into his skin as he held him in place.

“I miss you when I’m gone,” Bond breathed, and Q kissed him lightly, briefly.

“Really? I don’t miss you,” Q teased, and Bond knocked their foreheads together.

“You’re really not funny,” Bond said, and Q surged forward again, wrapping his left hand around the back of James’ head, fingers burying in his short, blonde hair. Bond leaned them forward to set the honey jar on the table without breaking their kiss. He cleaned his honey-sticky hand on Q’s displaced pajama shirt, and Q broke the kiss to frown at him.

“I was _using-_ ” Q began to complain, but Bond jacked their mouths together again, and Q sighed into his mouth. Q reached out and grabbed Bond’s collar, dragging him in and shoving him onto his back on the sofa. Bond rested his head on the arm of the couch just as Q crawled up his body. He let his forearms fall on either side of Bond’s head, holding him up just enough for him to let their mouths slide together again. Bond’s tongue traced along the seam of Q’s lips, and Q opened his mouth, letting their breath mingle hot between them.

Bond groaned lightly when Q’s hand traced his jawline, fingertips light against the line of bone leading down to his neck. Q dug his thumb into the space behind Bond’s ear before following the action with his mouth. Bond let his head fall backwards while Q bit at his ear, then the knob of his jawbone. His teeth grazed Bond’s neck as he dragged his mouth down towards the scar on Bond’s upper chest, a starburst of scar tissue, white against his skin. He nipped at the center of the mark, and Bond hauled him back up by his hair.

“I love you,” Bond breathed, blistering, into Q’s mouth, and Q moaned in response. He dropped his head down to Bond’s shoulder and exhaled, long and wavering. Bond pressed his lips to the crown of his head, and Q undid Bond’s belt with one hand. He slipped his good hand into Bond’s open pants and slipped the waistband down and out of the way. He wrapped his long, slender fingers around Bond’s dick and stroked slowly up, and up, and up, until Bond’s hips were ticking up into his hand, and Q was giving him a twist on every drag. Q lifted his head and let Bond bite his way into his mouth again. He let his nails scrape against Bond’s skin, and Bond groaned into his mouth, tipping over the edge with a burst of heat and relief.

Q yanked his pajama shirt out from under Bond to clean his hand. Bond caught his wrist, and Q paused, surveying Bond’s face for a moment before leaning in and licking his own palm. Bond grabbed him by the hair and hauled him in, seeming for all the world like he was trying to swallow him whole. Q breathed heavily into his mouth. Bond let his hands slide down to Q’s hips, yanking his pelvis to Bond’s thigh. Q’s mouth fell open, and he tipped his head down, his forehead pressing into Bond’s lips as he ground against his thigh. Bond dragged him against his body over and over until Q was gasping against his chest and relaxing on top of him, his body collapsing over Bond’s.

“I was using the pants, too,” Q eventually said, still slightly breathless, and Bond laughed.

“Don’t you have better pillow talk than scolding?” Bond asked, and Q nipped at the underside of his jaw before moving to sit up.

“I forgot to tell you, I’ve also got a new water sphere prototype for you to try out,” Q mentioned, smiling, and Bond grabbed him and pulled him back down, wrestling him in between himself and the back of the sofa.

“Please, don’t stop,” Bond snarled playfully, and Q laughed into his neck before pulling himself up off the sofa and onto his feet, socks slipping against the sleek hardwood.

“I’m not sleeping like this, so if you intend on staying, I’m going to change first,” Q informed him, gathering up his laptop, sling, and mug. Bond took the laptop and sling from him and set them back down on the table.

“If I intend on staying, I have to be back before Madeleine notices I’ve gone, or else our whole mission’s blown,” Bond answered. Q shuffled, yawning, over to the sink, and set his mug down in it. Fibonacci and Bill appeared out of the darkness to wind around his ankles as he walked.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Q murmured, heading for his bedroom. “Guess you better head home, then.”

“I am home,” Bond said, quiet, and Q paused in his bedroom doorway, watching as Bond gathered himself and Q’s pajama top before following after him. “I’m setting an alarm for 3:30.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Q said, pulling Bond by the cuff of his sleeve into his bedroom and tossing him on the bed. Bond was half-asleep by the time Q came back to clean him up, and he let him do it with relatively little complaint. As soon as Q finished, though, Bond was dragging him down into bed by his wrist.

“Love you,” Bond murmured into his neck. Q kissed his temple and bit at his lower lip before letting Bond settle around him and drop off into sleep.

“Same to you,” Q replied, shutting his eyes and yawning. Bill leapt up onto their bed, Fibonacci right behind, the two of them finding warm spaces to fall asleep in around them. Q tucked his head against Bond’s chest and made a mental note to himself not to log this particular mission update before snorting to himself at his own joke, and Bond smacked at his hip, as though he knew what he was thinking. Q grinned to himself and slipped asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon that Madeleine Swann, since her dad was like, a Really Big Antagonist and Super Bad Guy, and also Involved With Spectre, and since she's pretty hardcore, was maybe involved in Spectre the whole time. So, like, when you see her sitting next to Blofeld not tied up, and you see her in the building at the end after suspiciously walking down the street alone after expressing "fear" the entire film of being attacked, and when you see how good and intense of a fighter she is, you just know, there's more. So, you know, I'm going with, she's like, a bad guy, a mole, and she was always involved with Blofeld's plot. And now, she's just trying to use James to get him out of the picture, but James and Q realized she was bad through some digging and stuff, so James "left" MI6 but is really on an undercover mission to bring her down, which only Q, M, and Moneypenny know about. So, both of them think the other one is falling for them, while they're really just trying to bust each other. And Bond went back to Q at the end of the movie to get some more equipment and prep for the mission while using the car as a cover (which also gives him an excuse to get hooked up with that bomb-ass car). So, there's that.
> 
> Also, secondary headcanon, that bullet that seemed to come REALLY REALLY close to hitting Q during that last car chase actually did catch him, grazing him and tearing through some muscle and flesh and skin, but Q kept going because he was absolutely necessary, and he knew that, and he's STRONG, 'cause he's the Quartermaster, you know. It's a major organization he's taking care of here. Dude's a badass.
> 
> Also, Q's little laugh at his own joke was adorable, and immediate headcanon was that he always makes terrible jokes and then laughs at his own fucking jokes like the nerdlord he is, full stop.
> 
> SO. YEAH. I think that's all the explanations I need for all the nonsense I pulled. Ta-da.
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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